Page 68 of Wild Eyes
Bash rolls his eyes. “Go visit him in the hospital like I do. He still has plenty of those.”
“You guys need to leave Rhys alone,” Ford cuts in. “Just let the man bowl.”
We all look over, and Rhys has thrown the ball so hard that it seems like he’s trying to knock out the entire back wall of the building. Instead, he throws such a bullet that it takes out the middle pin and nothing else.
That douchebag, Too Tall—our mortal bowling enemy—shoots me a mocking grin from his lane. I know him from high school but can’t for the life of me remember his real name since he only introduces himself by his nickname now.
I’m glad we’re not playing him tonight because there’s nothing worse than losing to Stretch—as Ford jokingly calls him. And although this league is supposed to be a fun dads’ night out, I’m competitive enough to hate losing.
Still, Ford isn’t entirely wrong.
My head is not in the game.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SKYLAR
“Oh boy.He’s got the smart one hanging out with his sister now.” Doris places a glass of wine in front of me before moving to the opposite side of our private corner booth.
“Thank you, Doris. It’s so nice to see you again.” I grin up at the woman and catch a twitch of her cheek when she meets my eye.
“The smart one?” Rosie asks, looking between us.
“You know that boy, always out gallivanting with someone new. They’re all starry-eyed over him until they’re teary-eyed over him. This one, though…she flipped the script on him. About time.”
I blink because Doris is totally misreading West and me. He definitely isn’t starry-eyed over me. I’m accustomed to starry-eyed, and he’s treated me like nothing short of painfully normal since our first run-in.
“You’ve got a big fucking mouth, Doris,” Tabitha mumbles, giving her head a soft shake as she reaches for her glass of wine.
I don’t know what I expected from Tabitha, but the woman we picked up from a small house in town is extremely petite, rail thin, and looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks.
Doris must notice it too because, rather than snapping back, she pets her dark hair in a maternal way and says, “Drink your wine, Tabby. You need it.”
“Is this?—”
“The one you told me to bring in because…how did you put it? ‘I’d rather drink a grape juice box than this swill’?”
With a soft smile, Tabitha peeks up at the older woman. “Sounds about right.”
“Yep, this is the one.” With that, she squeezes Tabitha’s bony shoulder and leaves us.
Rosie lifts her glass in a cheers motion. “Thank you for your service, Tabby. This wine is far better than what we drank down by the lake as teenagers.”
I toast to that too, feeling out of the loop. Lake parties were definitely not part of my lifeas a teenager.
Our glasses clink, and Tabby chuckles. “Anything is better than that garbage, Rosie.”
We drink, and I realize that, much like on my night here with West, the wine is excellentfor a small-town pub.
I glance over at Tabby, and she catches me, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she smiles and offers, “It’s really nice to meet you, you know? I hope everyone has been on their best behavior. Let me know if anyone hasn’t. I’ll accidentally drop a ghost pepper in their dinner next time they’re in.”
She’s been polite and didn’t make a fuss over me, which had me letting out the world’s biggest sigh of relief.
It’s freeing to feel like I don’t need to wear my usual mask around these women. And to be honest, people have looked a little wide-eyed at me in town, but they’ve been pretty chill. Except for whoever snapped that photo of me with a bleeding nose. But rather than being angry, I hope they at least got a good chunk of change for it. If the paps are too lazy to fly to Canadaand drive three plus hours to find me, I hope they paid through the nose for that shot.
’Cause I sure did.
Ford offered me security this week when we met at his office, but I didn’t feel the need. It’s been nice not being followed around everywhere.
